Poked in the Eye
by FallingMirrors
Summary: It can be difficult to get accustomed to some of the requirements of a Faustian contract.


Alright.

So, here's the story.

Ages ago, before the exams, I was having a shower. I was putting my hair up, but my hand slipped and I poked myself in the eye. It hurt like hell. But it also gave me inspiration for this. Unfortunately, I had exams after that so I never got time to write it. And then I was just lazy. But it's done now, so I hope you like it.

Slight Sebby/Ciel.

Review~? :3

_~Poked in the Eye~_

"Sebastian... Will this hurt?" the young Earl asked tentatively as he squirmed beneath his new butler.

The inn they were staying in was, to say the least, not to his taste. The sheets that he could feel beneath him were not soft enough, nor was the pillow supporting his head properly fluffed.

"I'm afraid it will, my Lord," Sebastian responded, supporting his weight above his young master by propping himself up on his elbows.

The Earl made a mental note never to let his butler this close to him again.

"Only for a moment, Bocchan," the butler assured his master as he saw the small frown of discomfort cross the boy's face.

_A moment._

A moment more pain? Was that really so much to ask?

To the young boy, it felt like it.

He was tired after everything and he felt utterly fed up. Especially now he was trapped hopelessly beneath his new valet on a bed which was not his own.

"Just try to relax, my Lord," Sebastian urged, his smooth lips curving into his gentle, signature smile as he leaned in closer to his new master. The Earl could smell the sweetness which laced the demon's breath, feeling the soft weight press against his own small body. It was not thoroughly bad, he realised. He liked watching the way the flicker of the candlelight shone off the pale curve of his butler's cheek, watching the way it licked up those glossy, black locks of his.

"Don't fret, my Lord," Sebastian told him with a light smirk lifting the corners of his silky mouth, "It will not be too unbearable. There is nothing to be _afraid _of."

The Earl gritted his teeth at how Sebastian's quick tongue flicked around the word 'afraid,' at how his voice lightened with mockery.

"Shut up," the child ordered, his tone clipped with irritation, "And get this over with."

Sebastian rested his gloved hand over his heart, "Yes, my Lord."

Shining, pearly teeth bit down on the fingertip of a pristinely white glove, slipping it off with ease. The candlelight danced once more and then died as the deadly ruby of the demon's eyes approached the child.

"Sebastian..." One whisper and then...

Silence.

"OWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"Hush, my Lord."

"BLOODY HELL!"

"Bocchan, please bear with it..."

"SOMETHING POKED ME IN THE EYE!"

"You master, please. You are making a mountain out of a molehill. It cannot be that terrible."

"SEBASTIAN! IT BURNS! I'M GOING TO BE BLIND!"

The young noble tossed beneath his butler, fighting to get away from the burning pain in his right eye. He had not been warned that it would hurt to quite this extent.

The Phantomhive heir felt a knee dig into his middle, pinioning him to the bed.

"SEBASTIAN! LET ME GO! NOW!"

"I am afraid that I cannot, Sir."

"SEBASTIAN, YOU-" The young boy then proceeded to pour a stream of foul language from his seemingly innocent, shell-pink lips.

The noble could not see his butler's face in the pitch black, but he liked to imagine that his perfect face held an expression of shock.

"Y-Young Master, please desist!"

"I WILL BLOODY WELL SAY WHAT I WANT, YOU-"

"Finished, Bocchan!"

The child stopped in his rant mid-curse.

"Finished?"

"Yes, Sir."

The boy felt the warm weight of his butler leave the bed and he squinted in the sudden light as Sebastian struck a match and went about lighting several candelabra around the room.

"My Lord," Sebastian addressed him as he handed the boy a small mirror.

There, Earl Ciel Phantomhive was presented with his reflection for the first time in weeks, months perhaps. It was impossible for him to say how long he had been held... captive...

There was the boy he remembered from his family photographs, though slightly paler and gaunter than before. His ash grey hair fell into his eyes and had grown longer and shaggier down the nape of his neck. He would have to have Sebastian cut it for him.

But there, embedded in his right eye, was the source of the burning sensation he had endured.

There it was.

A real Faustian contract.

A few pink lines, as spindly and delicate in appearance as that of the threads of a spider's web, made up the pentagon. They glowed slightly in stark contrast to the natural royal blue of his iris.

The sweet, pink lips opened a fraction.

"Quite a good job," Sebastian announced smugly, eyeing the reflection which held his master so in thrall, "The seal of our contract. Young Master shall bear this mark forever. As long as I am your faithful servant." The raven-haired male gave a slight bow and his lips twisted into a dangerous smirk.

The boy's small fingers reached up to his eye.

"Don't touch it, Bocchan," Sebastian instructed, "It will still be a little sore. The pain should be gone by tomorrow and then we will have to invest in an eye patch. Would some warm milk be desirable? I'll add caramel to sweeten the taste."

"...Yeah..." The boy responded absently.

"Bocchan?"

_Forever. _

"Hm?"

"Are you... alright, Young Master?"

"...Yeah..."

_I will be by Young Master until the end. _


End file.
